


Of Drizzly Skies and Saltwater Taffy

by eccentric_artist_221b



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Coping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Irondad Fic Exchange 2019, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Road Trips, Scared Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Triggers, Vacation, Whales, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22021333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentric_artist_221b/pseuds/eccentric_artist_221b
Summary: “No...Tony…please-“ Peter begs, lifting his eyes upwards as if they’re teetering glasses on a tray.His mentor shows no mercy, voice softening, strategic, with purpose.“I know for a fact that there are two things keeping that dam from bursting open right now...and neither of them are valid,” he says, pointing to Peter’s heart, “One…You don’t think you have the right. I guess, maybe, because you helped defend the earth...because you’ve got super strength…cause your Spiderman.”Tony pauses, pleased when it makes Peter’s gaze return back to his, “And two, for some reason that I cannot fathom, you don’t want to cry in front of Iron Man.”
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 61
Kudos: 518
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2019





	Of Drizzly Skies and Saltwater Taffy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [As_Clear_As_Crystal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/As_Clear_As_Crystal/gifts).



> This was written for the irondad fic exchange!  
> For the lovely As_Clear_As_Crystal!!!!! I love you and I hope you thoroughly enjoy this emotional vacation piece! 
> 
> This fic is supposed to take place after End Game and Far From Home, however, its clearly fanfic canon, rather than actual canon. LOL  
> I'm sorry its rather vague at times, in reference to the movie's events and what exactly transpired, but I didn't have a year to write this. XD
> 
> Enjoy!! 
> 
> Oh, and I'd like to thank Cass for helping me with the PTSD scenes. I know for a fact that I am wrong on certain aspects, but I hope I did it some justice. Couldn't have done it without you, sweets!!  
> That being said, if you are easily triggered, there are trigger scenes in this fic, but they're mild. 
> 
> Okay! On with the story!

Tony had one burning question rolling around in his mind this evening.

_Alright, maybe two._

How on earth was Peter sleeping through this epic level of a rain storm?

And why had he allowed his protégé to pick their vacation destination?

_“Oregon? Kid, you do know there’s purpose in this trip, right? As in, the scenery is supposed to…uplift…rejuvenate…heal our mental states? I’m thinking this time of year, that’s gonna be nothing but Eeyore’s paradise.”_

_“I know, sir. It’s just, Uncle Ben used to promise to take me there when I got older…It’s sort of been something on my bucket list and…and…”_

And Tony could never object to that. 

So, to Oregon it was.

The billionaire’s Audi cruises along long lines of evergreen trees, their thick boughs swaying back and forth in the wind as sporadic lightning flashes through dense pockets of dark gray.

At least there’s a bit of comfort in the scenic coast line, barely visible in the dark of the evening.

Peter’s head lulls against the window on the passenger’s side with each turn of the wheel, mouth hanging open and snores quieted by the buckets of rain pouring over the car.

It’s pretty freaking cute, if Tony’s honest, but he still manages to hold the fond smile at bay.

A random Indie song plays soft, in time, with the windshield wipers; one of fifty something tunes on Peter’s playlist and he resists the urge to switch over to something his palate’s more accustomed to.

It had been May who’d relayed Peter’s diagnosis to him a few weeks prior, after a concerned teacher urged her to put the teen in to counselling, asap.

_Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder._

Something Tony understood better than anyone…. something he had hoped Peter would escape after their close fight against Thanos…

…but the kid’s experienced too much. They both had.

Inevitable scars left behind.

_“I think you need to take him somewhere,” Pepper had told him after she’s been informed. “Morgan and I can have some mommy-daughter time, and you and Pete …” she giggles before she can finish the thought, loving the way Tony’s eyes roll up at her implications._

_“Yeah, I don’t think that’s-“_

_“Oh, stop,” Pepper had said, bringing her arms up around his neck, “You two have never been able to just…bond. You know?”_

_“I’m thinking me springing a road trip on the kid, out of the blue, is going to be some kind of weird, don’t you think?”_

_Pepper purses her ruby red lips, “Tony, everything about you…us…it’s always been weird. That’s never stopped you before,” she replied, “And I recall you never shutting up about how much you regretted not taking that kid to any games and camping trips when he was gone those five years. Now’s your chance.”_

_Tony shifted and sighed, eyes looking back and forth between his wife and the window, “Yeah, but he-”_

_“Adores you.”_

_“I wouldn’t say he-”_

_“Adores you…Don’t pass this up.”_

Another impressive lightning bolt splits the sky, pulling Tony from his thoughts.

He’s rather thankful the kid’s enhanced hearing doesn’t seem to be affecting him at the moment. Even so, this only further reveals the level of Peter’s exhaustion.

_Keep sleeping, bud. Sleep, sleep, sleep till you’re all caught up._

Paranoia gets the better of him as he turns the music up just a hair louder. He can’t very well tell the storm to kindly not _‘wake the spider-baby’_. Where’s Thor when you need him?

Thirty-five minutes later, Tony pulls in to a narrow little driveway just along Highway 101. The huge, hand painted B&B sign, nearly half the size of the house, sits proudly atop the flat roof.

And yeah, Tony knows right away, this will be the tiniest, cheapest little place he’s ever stayed at.

Never mind that Peter’s eyes nearly came out of his head, earlier, when he’d heard it was a $500.00 a night stay.

(It had included the breakfast package, and well, Mr. Stark spares no expense.)

_But for this?_

The billionaire sighs as he puts the car in park, taking in the probable disappointment.

 _Whales Rendezvous_?

More like _Sucker’s Resort_.

Well, things are off to a fantastic start. He’s almost ready to search for something different when Peter stretches and stirs awake.

_Of course!_

Brown eyes widen as the teen adjusts to get a better look out the window.

_Sorry, kid._

“Were here?!” Peter asks with a ridiculous grin, turning to Tony without the slightest sign of disappointment, “Dude, this is gonna be awesome!”

And suddenly Tony’s a bit ashamed as Peter jumps out of the car to grab his bag in the back seat.

Of course, this beautiful enigma of a companion…who’s always had to live with less, would fully embrace whatever spot they ended up in.

Man, he loves this kid.

“Maybe we’ll be able to see the whales from our room!” Peter adds, clutching his backpack with both hands and moving to study another wooden sign at the entrance. His fingers trace over the two carved cetaceans in the center, hopeful face falling back on his mentor as they both enter the little house.

The rusty jingle bells on the door alert a grinning, middle-aged woman and she greets them with as much warmth as one would their own family.

_Well, at least the customer service wasn’t going to be an issue._

“You made it! Oh, Mr. Stark! Never, in a thousand years would I think that you, of all people, would want to come and visit my B&B!” she cries, shaking her head and extending her hand out.

Tony takes it in his own, not shocked at all when she pulls him in to a tight hug.

“Imagine little old me getting to personally thank you for such a selfless act of heroism!”

“Oh, there’s really no need to-you don’t have to…but, okay.”

Peter giggles when Tony surrenders to the embrace, biting his bottom lip when his mentor’s narrowed eyes meet his.

“And who is this?” the woman asks, pulling away to embrace the teenager.

“This is Peter. He’s my-uh-” 

“Intern,” Peter finishes for him, bringing his hands back to his backpack strap.

Tony blushes, unsure if it’s due to his lack of a title for the kid or the fact that Peter had interjected so quickly. His mind flashes back to the alien ship, they’d been carried away on so many years ago before reaching Titan.

_“I’m sorry, I-I-I’m confused as to the relationship here. What is he, your ward?” Strange had asked._

_“No.” Peter had been quick to answer then too._

We’re on a retreat…of sorts,” Tony adds, pulling himself to the present.

“Wonderful! Well, you should be able to find some peace and quiet out here, at any rate,” the woman replies, waving them to their room, “Now, we usually only get couples and singles here at the _Rendezvous_. Did you boys need a cot brought in to your room?”

Tony groans inwardly at the statement, “Hang on a sec. I was certain there were two beds in the room when I reserved.”

The woman’s blonde hair sways side to side, “No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. There are only two rooms in this building and they both have one queen each.”

“Alright. Easy fix.” Tony shrugs, reaching for his wallet, “We’ll just take the other room for the week, as well.”

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t do that, even for you, sir. It’s already been booked by an elderly couple…and they’re regulars of mine. I profusely apologize for the mix up! If you’d like to cancel…”

Peter tunes out her words when she opens the door to their suite, his jaw nearly hitting the floor.

Like the secret world of Narnia, hidden in the back of a wardrobe full of dusty, moth-eaten coats, is this bed and breakfast’s locked up treasure. The far wall is a long line of great big windows looking out to the breathtaking view…the stormy, white waves pound hard against the black rocks just thirty feet from where they stand…nothing but sky and ocean as far as the eye could see.

“Whoa,” he whispers, stepping towards the patio door like a moth to a flame, “This is…Wow.”

Tony can’t deny the beauty of it either, a bit taken aback at the contrast between antique furniture, low ceilings, ancient carpet, lace doilies and...well… _this._

Peter’s curls fly away like kites on strings the moment he opens the door to the salty wind. Lightning paints the sky again, the rain continuing to pour down like cats and dogs.

And this is still so messed up. How was the kid supposed to rest in this?

This was steadily becoming one big, fat mistake.

Until it isn’t.

Peter turns back to Tony with nothing but pure, unadulterated delight. Teeth shining, even in the dim light of dusk, “This is perfect, sir! It’s perfect!”

Something warm settles in Tony’s chest and he stuffs his hands in his pockets, turning back to the innkeeper with a sniff of fake indifference, “Well, the kid’s decided, I guess. That’s good enough for me.”

The woman gives an expression of sympathy, “I’ll just…go get that cot,” she whispers, scrunching up her nose as she pats his good arm.

“Mmhmm. I sure hope the breakfast package wasn’t a figment of my imagination,” Tony calls to her as she heads to fetch the item.

“Oh, just you wait, Mr. Stark!” the woman’s voice echoes back, “Guaranteed, you’ll be glad you stuck around!”

……..

A few hours after settling in for the night, Tony remembers dinner, insisting that Peter find something to watch on the archaic television sitting across from the bed, while he forages the town for something to fill their stomachs.

It takes him about twenty minutes to locate a pub that’s actually selling pizza after 6:00pm, another twenty-five minutes for the order to finish baking before he’s finally heading back to feed his hungry spider-kid.

Ah, the charming aspects of small towns.

Wiping his wet shoes on the rug, he slides them off and carries the pizza over to the bed where Peter sits slumped against the headboard, watching a movie.

_“I’m Jack Dawson.”  
“Rose De Witt Bukater.”  
“I’m gonna have to get you to write that one down.”_

“Titanic?” Tony chuckles, passing Peter a paper plate and a couple of napkins.

“It was that or the Notebook,” Peter sighs, holding up the two VHS tapes sitting on the other end table and cracking up at his mentor’s face.

“Fair enough,” Tony replies, picking up his own slice of pizza and taking a seat on the bed, “I’m actually super impressed you even knew how to run that thing,” he adds, taking a big bite.

Peter grabs the cheesiest piece in the box, pinching off the long string of mozzarella that comes with it before it droops down to the blanket beneath him, “My Uncle Ben had a VCR he refused to get rid of. We used to watch his old Star Wars trilogy on it.”

Tony searches the kid’s face for any hints of depth in the statement, leaving it be when met with casual munching and a bigger interest in the story on the tv screen.

They eat in comfortable silence, pulled in to the drama playing out in the scene.

“Did you ever feel like Rose?” Peter says a little later after he’s done eating.

Tony’s sits with his legs stretched out straight, pizza box now moved to the floor, “I mean, who hasn’t fallen madly in love with Leonardo Dicaprio?”

Peter glares and sniffs out a laugh, throwing a pillow at his mentor. “You know what I mean. Did you ever want to just…give up…even though you had everything?”

“Mmhmm,” Tony murmurs casually, glancing at the teen out of the corner of his eye.

Peter continues staring straight ahead, unaware of the gaze upon him, “Really?”

“Oh, yeah...I’ve definitely…hit my share of rock bottoms.”

_Your death being number one…_

He keeps looking at Peter, awaiting more questions…wanting so desperately to steer the conversation, but nothing more is said.

They don’t even finish the movie. Peter steps out on the porch well before any mushy-gushy scenes, and quite frankly, the billionaire’s pretty thankful he doesn’t have to decide between fast forwarding a certain bit not appropriate for a child or continuing to watch in uncomfortable silence with a very young adult.

Peter was right in that awkward sweet spot when it comes to age.

Not quite a child…not quite a man.

_And yet, he’s been to war…has seen enough carnage to last a lifetime._

He gives the teen another half an hour to himself before he checks on him again, stuffing his hands in his pockets and standing in the doorway, looking out at the ocean, feet standing between the deck and the bedroom carpet.

The rain has finally passed on through, heavy clouds still blocking moonlight as the wind continues beating against the overhang.

At first glance, Peter seems to be nodding off, sitting with his neck relaxed on the back of the porch swing, arms resting at his sides and legs unmoving, but when he sees Tony standing there, he’s quick to straighten up, scooting over to make room for the older man.

“No, you’re good. Stay there,” Tony says, waving off the gesture and inhaling the fresh air.

“Should we call it, squirt?”

Peter stretches his limbs at the question, faking a yawn and bringing his knees to his chest, “Mmm, No. You go ahead, Mr. Stark. I think I’ll just sit out here a bit longer.”

Tony frowns at the notion, folding his arms and leaning himself against the frame of the building.

_I know what you’re doing, kid._

“Suit yourself.”

_Alright, Tony. Plan B…what’s plan B?_

He’ll figure out a way to get this kid to sleep, even if it’s the last thing he does.

……….

Judging by the dark circles underneath the kid’s eyelids the next morning, plan B’s a total bust.

“Did you sleep?”

“What?”

“Did you sleep?” Tony enunciates each word, raised eyebrow demanding an answer.

The noisy Keurig all but shelves the question of the morning as Peter rushes back to attend to a steaming mug of black coffee.

Tony runs his fingers through his hair, too tired to further drill the boy after a night of arguing over where they should sleep.

Peter had all but refused the bed at first, climbing in to the cot, despite Tony’s repetitive, ‘Get your skinny ass on this mattress or so help me’ warnings.

_“You can’t sleep on the cot, Mr. Stark! You’re…”_

_“I’m what? Old? Oh, I know that’s not what you were about to say!” Tony says, attempting to put Peter in a headlock and laughing when it makes the kid screech._

_“Shhh, Shush! You’re going to wake up Ma and Pa Kettle sleeping next door!”_

_As if on que, the big band sounds of Moonlight Serenade bleed easily through the bedroom wall, causing both of them to freeze in their mock fight._

_“Ooor…maybe interrupt a passionate night of-“_

_“Stop-Stop!” Peter whispers loudly, cheeks going dark when he covers over his ears as they continue busting a gut, “I do NOT need that image!”_

_“Your face looks like a tomato, kid.” Tony cries, “Oh mylanta, you’re killin’ me.”_

_“Shut up!”_

_“Now, Is that any way to talk to your elders?”_

_“Dude, you drove me to it!”_

In the end, they’d settled on sharing the bed, dividing it with an invisible line down the middle, like a couple of elementary students on a camping trip.

And yet, Tony’s still not even sure Peter’s caught any Z’s. He can barely remember when he, himself, nodded off.

Peter brings over the brewed beverage, setting it on the dining room table, right in front of his mentor.

“Thanks, bud.”

“Yep.”

“Now answer the question.”

A knock on their door interrupts, yet again; Tony drums his fingers on the cherry wood, cursing under his breath.

Peter’s glad to let in the distraction, socks sliding on the linoleum floor, down the hall, to reach the door.

“Good morning!” a chipper voice cries, “I’ve brought your breakfast.”

“Whoa! Looks delicious, ma’am.” Peter replies as they both enter back in to the kitchen area.

Tony greets the innkeeper with a smile, taking a sip of his coffee as she sets them up with their well-prepared meal, “Quite the feast you’ve got going on here! I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” he says.

“As promised,” the woman says with a wink, “And how was your sleep? I hope it wasn’t too uncomfortable with the cot situation.”

She finishes arranging the dishes with a plate of piping hot pancakes in the center of the table, pouring them both an orange juice and setting the warm maple syrup and butter next to the pancakes.

“Well, I slept great,” Tony replies, tilting his head, sharp, to Peter’s direction, “Actually, Peter was just about to tell me his opinion.”

Peter grabs another mug from the cupboard, setting it under the Keurig for his own cup of hot apple cider and in addition, keeping his back faced to the older man, “I feel great!” he cries with copious amounts of enthusiasm.

_Yeah, lay it on thick, kid. We might actually believe you._

“Oh, Peter, I brought you these,” the innkeeper says, reaching under her cart to pull out an old pair of binoculars, “They’re ancient, but they work great! There’s a couple grays hanging not to far out as we speak.”

Peter looks at the woman like she’s given him her inheritance, careful in taking them from her and inspecting them up close, “Wow! Thank you, ma’am. Can I use them right now?”

“Sure!”  
“Kid, let’s eat first,” Tony interjects.

But Peter flies to the window anyway, licking his lips and twisting the focusing wheel, searching for movement.

“Dude! Dude! I see them!” he cries, “Mr. Stark, come here, quick!”

Tony pushes his chair back in exasperation, walking over to Peter’s side and snatching the binoculars. “Alright, let’s see it so I can eat.”

“You know, Whale Tail Charters just down the street will take you out on a boat to meet them, if you’re interested,” the innkeeper says.

Peter’s mouth hangs open, turning slow in dramatic fashion to look straight at Tony.

Tony splays his hand over the kid’s face, leaving it there until Peter pries it off.

“Lady, you’re killing me. Haven’t you figured out that I can’t say no to him yet?”

The woman laughs out loud, enjoying Peter’s beaming expression.

“It’s a wonder anyone could say no to that face,” she replies, “I sympathize, but I can assure you, it’s a really fun adventure. You ought to give it a try.”

“Please?” Peter asks, giving Tony that look that every parent dreads.

Of course, they’re at the dock, waiting to be loaded in to the boat just a few hours later.  
Tony sits on a hand carved bench, pulling a life vest over his head along with the other seven passengers, muttering things about the charter boat looking like a glorified river raft and hoping he wasn’t about to lose his five-hundred-dollar breakfast.

Peter helps the older man tie the strings on the right side of the vest, biting back a grin, “Come on, sir. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Retired,” Tony replies, “Right along with the rest of me.”

“If he can do it, so can you,” Peter says, gesturing to the old Captain loading the passengers.

Tony’s ready to fire off another comeback when a young father and his three-year-old son come to stand beside them…the small boy visibly upset as his dad sets him down on the edge of the bench.

“It won’t be scary, bud. I promise. Daddy wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” the father says, cupping the boy’s chubby cheeks in his hands.

“Is they d-dunna come in the boat, Daddy?” the toddler asks.

“No, baby boy. We’re just gonna watch them.”

Peter joins in like the friendly spider he is back in Queens, bending down to reassure the kid in his own way, “Aww, Is this your first boat ride, little dude?”

“He’s actually just afraid of the whales,” the father says, letting his son whirl around behind him.

“Scared of the whales!?” Peter cries with his hands on his face, “Oh no! But whales are so friendly!”

The little boy waits for more, interest piqued at the animated teenager as he peeks around his father.

“Did you see Finding Nemo? When Dory speaks whale?” Peter asks, “You just need to talk to them like she does! Helloooooo, Mr. Whaaaaale!! Hooooooow aaaaaare yooooou?”

The little boy giggles, biting his finger and keeping the other hand attached to his dad’s pantleg, looking more and more hopeful that Peter will continue.

“Dooooooon’t beeeeee scaaaaaaared, liiiiittle booooyeeee! Weeeeeee aaaaaare frieeeeends!”

Tony and the young father crack up at the same time, watching the encounter and exchanging glances.

“Is he being silly?” the father asks his child, happy to see his son in a much better condition.

The child nods and stretches his arms to be picked up, to which the father obliges, propping the boy on his hip and turning back to Peter, “Are you better now or are you still scared?”

“I not scared,” the little boy replies, keeping his eyes on Peter the whole time.

“Yaaay!” Peter cheers, clapping his hands together and bringing them up for the kid to high five. “Let’s do this, little man!”

For a moment, it’s like Tony gets a glimpse of the future…maybe not _THEE_ future, but a future…one where Peter gets to experience what Tony’s already experiencing right now, and dang, it’s weird to think about.

_The kid with a kid._

Nope. It’s too foreign an idea just yet and Tony’s certainly not ready for it.

“Come on, kid. Time to go.”

_Before I start getting depressed at how few years I have left before you’re an adult._

Ten minutes later, they’re out from under the bridge, leaving the harbor behind and heading out towards the open ocean.

“Our resident gray whales have been pretty aloof these days,” the captain shouts above the engine, “-but I’ll do my best to find you some blows at the very least.”

Peter’s eyes scan the waves for signs of life, cold, red fingers pressed hard atop the side of the Zodiac as he waits.

Tony thinks he looks more eager than the Captain’s Black Labrador on the opposite side of the boat as the two older men share an amused glance with each other.

The little motor sputters louder, pushing further and further away from the coastline.

They fly past a tall, red buoy, dinging loud and clear, her old bell ringing gently by the roll of the surf.

A few lazy sealions lounge atop the floating marker, barking at each other when they aren’t too keen on sharing the space. Peter manages to snap a few pictures with his phone, checking them and showing Tony before tucking the item back in his pocket.

“Does anyone know how to identify grays from a distance?” the Captain asks, pausing for someone to give him an answer. When no one volunteers, he tells them, “Instead of one blowhole, they have two positioned in such a way that when they exhale, their spout appears to be heart-shaped-”

“Look-look-look!!” Peter hollers, pointing out towards the horizon, “I see them!”

“Well done, kid!” the Captain replies, steering the tiny boat around, “Now, we’re required to keep about a hundred yards distance from them, unless, of course, they decide to come to us!”

Peter turns to his mentor with a hopeful grin, pressing against the inflatable vessel to get a better look.

Tony can’t hide the strong paternal swell in his chest. The giant lifebelt makes Peter look so much younger…so full of life; he almost forgets there’s trauma still buried deep beneath all that joy-filled energy.

“Well, I’ll be...I think we may be getting a visit, after all, gentleman!” the Captain hollers, as a few gigantic blows erupt to the surface, several yards away, “Here they come!”

Tony moves to the edge beside Peter, clapping him on the back and ruffling the kid’s curls, “Did that spider bite give you the power to talk to animals too?” he whispers, chuckling when Peter gives him a shove.

“Nah,” the teen replies, “If anything, they’ve probably come to thank you for returning their families.”

Tony’s cheeks burn despite the cold wind on them, nudging Peter and raising an eyebrow.

They seem to remember the little boy at the same time, both turning to investigate his current state, behind them.

No longer does he curl in to his father’s side, curly head turning from right to left with new found courage. 

“They comin’ to the boat, daddy?” his tiny voice cries, big smile stretching across his face.

“Yeah, bud,” the father replies, adjusting his son’s life vest and perching him on to his lap, “They sure are!”

“Yeah! They sure are,” the toddler repeats, clapping his tiny hands.

For a brief second, Peter and Tony lock eyes, neither of them needing to guess what was on the other’s mind before focusing back to the sea.

“There’s two of them, I think,” Peter says, closing his eyes and listening, “A mother and calf.”

Tony’s baffled face makes the teenager stutter for the right explanation, still sheepish with his enhanced abilities.

“It’s…I can sort of hear their heartbeats, like I can with people,” he says under his breath, a bit bewildered, himself.

Tony continues to stare, smirking with eyes narrowing, “Care to explain how you can tell their ages?”

Peter lifts up his chin, squinting his eyes and crossing his arms over the bulky, orange vest, “Everybody knows an infant’s heart beats faster than its parents, no matter the species, Mr. Stark. How do you not know that?”

“Oh, everybody knows that, huh?” Tony balks, poking Peter in the sides, between the strings of his life preserver, “Everybody?”

Peter’s melodious laughter is infectious, a few other passengers fail miserably at hiding their amusement.

Huge puffs of fishy-smelling seawater erupt not far out on the starboard side just then, startling everyone aboard as dapple-gray walls of bumpy barnacles surface just above the water.

Shouts of excitement resound from the huddled cluster of humans, each one hoping for a once in a lifetime experience.

The calf reveals itself next, brave in its innocence as it swims just a little over an arm’s length away.

“I guess little Moby Dick’s got no self-preservation skills,” Tony laughs, “Reminds me of someone.”

“Yourself?” Peter asks, receiving a playful whack from the billionaire.

The baby gray lifts its head completely out of the water, twirling a few times as if to show off for the tourists.

Peter reaches back in his pocket for his phone, getting the camera ready for another shot. “I’ve got to get a picture for Morgs. She’s gonna flip!”

He zooms in and out on the dimly lit screen, moving over a couple seats and angling just right for the shot, “Come on, little bud, I need you to get just a little closer…little bit more…”

He never imagines the mother would breach right next to the raft.

Forty-five feet long…some forty tons of massive, raw power, projecting herself out of the water like a freight train thrown off its tracks. Her lengthy body overshadows the Zodiac in a flash…a mere moment of time, paused only in the onlooker’s minds, before she slaps down, hard, on to the water again.

A loud chorus of laughter and cheering follows afterwards, even the youngster aboard voices his praise.

“Yeah!!” Tony shouts, punching the air with a hardy laugh, “Hey, was that close enough for you, kid?! Be careful what you wish for!”

Wiping the salt water off his face, he whirls around to catch Peter’s reaction.

“Kid?”

The teen’s dark eyes stare vacant, straight ahead at the horizon, thin lips pressed as he sits up, rigid, in his seat. The phone in his hands crashes to the floor at his feet, camera still active as it falls right side up.

“Pete?” Tony tries again, clambering over a few other seats to reach the boy.

His hands move to rest on Peter’s tense shoulders. When no response is given, he doesn’t hesitate to act on the trainings he’s been taught for scenarios such as this.

_PTSDPTSDPTSDPSTDPTSD_

“Peter? Pete, can you look at me?” he asks.

The boisterous noises of celebration come to an abrupt halt as everyone picks up on Tony’s panicked concentration.

_“Oh. Is he alright?”_

_“Is he choking?”_

_“He might be seasick.”_

Tony succeeds in ignoring everyone else’s chatter with exception to the other man’s child.

“Daddy, dat boy scared?” the tender voice asks, “He scared?”

“Maybe, buddy. I’m not sure,” replies the father, “Let’s let his daddy take care of him and give them some space, okay?”

Tony feels a lump rising in his throat, collecting himself as best he can before he can spiral out of control.

Peter needs him strong. This trip was supposed to be all about finding some sense of security…

And good grief, he hadn’t truly expected to see the kid triggered by something, way out here, in the middle of nowhere.

Miserable, maybe, but not this.

_What do I do?_

_What do I do?_

_What had he and May discussed before they’d left?_

_Protocols…_

_Come on, Tony, you know the drill…_

“I’m right here,” he says to Peter, “Can you try, bud? Can you look at me?”

The kid’s leaving him somewhere…heading in to the unknown, though he’s still in the present.

It unnerves Tony.

He’s careful in everything, remembering his own triggers in earlier years as he plans each step he takes.

“I’m gonna put my hands on your feet, okay?” he says, slow in lying his palms over Peter’s soggy tennis shoes. “Can you feel your feet here on the floor? We’re moving because of the waves. It’s just the waves.”

A pause.

“We’re in Oregon. Can you press your foot down on my hand?” Tony asks.

It takes a second, but a little weight soon follows, much to his relief, “Good. That’s good, kid.”

A keening sound breaks through Peter’s lips, tortured eyes threatening to roll back.

“Peter. Pete, look at me. Look at me,” Tony instructs, showing his hands to the teen again before bringing them slowly over those stiff arms. “I’m gonna prove this is real, buddy, okay? I’m gonna roll up your sleeves now. You feel that wind?”

He waits for another response before dropping his hand over the side of the boat, dipping it in to the saltwater and bringing it back over to Peter.

“How ‘bout this cold water on your arms? You feeling that?”

Tony takes a deep breath when the kid’s eyes really look at him this time.

“Good boy! That’s it. Focus on me.”

Peter’s jaw tightens at the gentle instruction.

“I know it’s scary. I know,” Tony soothes, brushing at soft, red cheeks, “You’re scared and it’s okay.”

Another blast of air and sea water sprays over the boat and Tony wonders if their giant visitor can sense the panic. It continues to follow alongside the Zodiac as they make their way back to the harbor.

Five minutes feels like an eternity as the other passengers huddle around them, arms stretching to help just as Tony warns them not to. “Hang on-hang on. He’s okay,” he assures them, lifting up his mechanical arm to keep them back.

The last thing Peter needs right now is an identity reveal _and_ civilian injuries on his already tender, conscience.

“Aren’t you, bud…You’re alright.”

The worry lines rise and fall above Peter’s brow, the only indication that Tony’s voice is having any effect.

“You’re safe…so, so safe. Right here with me.”

Would that he could drive out every last bit of fear from Peter’s mind…more than that, he wishes for clarity… to know exactly where these visions were rooted. What was scaring the kid the most?

Their final battle with Thanos?

Quentin Beck’s influence?

Back on Titan, turning to dust had been slow and painful for the teen…something that haunted Tony years after Peter had died in his arms.

Then, again, there were the mind games the kid had endured, curtesy of an unstable man he should’ve taken care of years before Peter was ever entangled in his life.

_And yet…_

It had been the whale, just now, that had triggered this whole mess they were in.

_The Chitauri’s Leviathans?_

The intergalactic beasts had been present in the final battle. Perhaps the whale had brought him back there?

The whimpers that follow are painful.

“I know it. I hear you, kid,” Tony says, knowing they’re desperate attempts to communicate.

As they pass beneath the bridge again, he cups Peter’s frozen hands together and brings them to his lips, blowing warm air on them and rubbing them vigorously with his own, “Almost there…almost there.”

Docking minutes later, the Captain is immediate in assessing the situation, jumping off and ready to call for help before Tony assures him that everything’s taken care of.

“Looks like shell shock,” the white-bearded man comments, tying off the Zodiac’s line to a nearby piling and assisting the other passengers off the little boat.

_And, oh, does it hurt to hear such an outdated term in reference to such innocence._

Tony uses careful movements in removing Peter’s life vest.

“PTSD, actually,” he corrects in a defeated tone, “He hasn’t slept much in the last few days.”

_…months…_

With a quick word of thanks to the Captain and the passengers for their help and understanding, Tony gets Peter up and walking.

It takes a lot of work, and multiple stops when the kid’s legs refuse to cooperate, but somehow, they make it back to the old B&B.

“Couple more steps,” Tony grunts out, dragging Peter once they enter the suite.

The teenager topples backwards on to the bed with limbs as stiff as a board, his neck and jaw muscles still tight and locked in place.

The freeze response rises to its peak, an involuntary reaction now that Peter’s reached a safer location.

“Okay-okay. We made it,” Tony says, pivoting the teen’s head on to a pillow and continuing to rub down rigid arms and legs. “There we go, Pete. If you can hear me, we’re just gonna ride this thing out together, alright?”

Peter blinks in response, eyes turning vacant again towards the ceiling.

“Come on back, Pete. Come on back to me,” Tony says pausing in his ministrations to seek out some ice from the freezer.

He returns a minute later, placing some makeshift cold packs over Peter’s arms in the hopes it might pull him further out of the episode.

It works faster than he anticipates.

“Help!” Peter gasps, chest heaving as his body works at moving again, “Help!”

“Shhh, Hang on, bud. Hang on,” Tony says, taking off the boy’s shoes and socks.

“Tony…Tony, please. Help me,” Peter gasps.

“I am, bud. It’s okay,” Tony comforts.

“Tony…”

“You’re gonna be okay, kid. You’re gonna be just fine.”

…………………………………………….

Peter wakes up fighting. In fact, he and Tony haven’t stopped arguing for well over a half hour. Another big rainstorm blackens the sky right outside, darkening the mood even more.

Tony slaps a hand down on the dresser beside him, more angry at himself that he can’t reign it in, “The entire reason you’re here is because your teacher thinks you need-“

“Nobody knows what I need! I’m not even sure I know what I need!” Peter shoots back.

“What you need is a good night’s sleep!!”

And Tony’s just about had it…one sentence away from losing his mind, but Peter beats him to it.

“No!! What I need is for you to not die and leave me here all alone, by myself!!”

The moment the truth is out, the kid takes a few steps back, growling in frustration and rubbing aggressive circles over his eyelids.

Tony freezes.

_Is this...No…Don’t tell me that I’m the reason you’re going through all this trauma…_

_…baby._

Tony bites his tongue down on the term of endearment.

He’s used it many a time when Morgan and Pepper are hurting...when they cry...

Certain customs, culture, the general way of things keeps the name contained…at least until it rips its own way out, silent and painful, through his chest. 

‘Kid’ would have to do.

‘Kid’ had always meant everything he couldn’t say…

_“Kid.”_

_I love you so much it hurts._

_“Kid.”_

_If anyone ever tries to harm one hair on your head, I swear..._

_“Kid.”_

_You’re like my own flesh and blood._

_“Kid.”_

_You’re my spider-baby._

Has Peter ever been able to feel any of the hidden messages bleeding out of him through that one simple, affectionate nickname? 

“Kid,” he finally says, feeling it’s been somewhat cheapened on his tongue.

“I-I-was…” Peter interrupts, thumbs still pushing against his eyelids.

Tony waits, patient for the rest, broken when the teen is quite unable to finish a word, let alone a full sentence.

“Take your time,” he murmurs, cooling off and attempting to steer his charge to the chair behind him.

He doesn’t expect Peter to try and bolt around him. 

“Nope-” Tony says, tapping his chest and suiting up to keep the kid in place, gripping tighter when Peter works at twisting his wrists out of the metal covered hands, now, holding him captive.

“It’s nothing! Just forget it!”

“Hey! Swallowing it down, kid, is not-stop! Would you just look at me!?” Tony shouts, metal helmet fading away in the hopes of deescalating the situation, “Swallowing it down isn’t going to make this go away!”

Peter shakes his head from side to side, backing up and keeping the man from closing the gap between them. 

“Yes,” Tony continues to press, “In fact, you can count on it! This is personal experience talking-”

“No...Tony…please-“ Peter begs, lifting his eyes upwards as if they’re teetering glasses on a tray.

His mentor shows no mercy, voice softening, strategic, with purpose. 

“I know for a fact that there are two things keeping that dam from bursting open right now...and neither of them are valid,” he says, pointing to Peter’s heart, “One…You don’t think you have the right. I guess, maybe, because you helped defend the earth...because you’ve got super strength…cause your Spiderman.”

Tony pauses, pleased when it makes Peter’s gaze return back to his, “And two, for some reason that I cannot fathom, you don’t want to cry in front of Iron Man.”

A choked sob rips out of Peter’s teeth, arms flying up to hide his crumbling face.

Tony’s cautious in moving closer, suit fading away entirely as he opens up his arms. 

“Buddy, it’s just me. You know, at the end of the day, I’m just ‘Mr. Stark’, right? And you know what else?” 

“What?”

“Fun fact. Pepper used to watch me cry over you every night for months after the blip.”

Peter lifts his head up just enough to see the familiar blue glow of his mentor’s chest, “You?”

Tony gives a genuine smile, flicking the boy’s cheek, “Yeah, me! Day after day…night after night.”

“Then, how’d you get it to stop?!” Peter asks with voice rising in octave, “What happens if it doesn’t-“

“It will, kid,” Tony interjects, hovering inches in front of the teen, “I promise.”

Peter’s breathing takes off like a shot at the words of affirmation, chest fluttering in surrender as he lets the tears spill out, unhindered, this time. “Okay…okay,” he whimpers with limbs shaking.

“Okay?” Tony murmurs, letting Peter bridge the tiny gap left between them, “See? This is totally normal. Me and you. No shame. I’ve got you.”

His arms are suddenly full of collapsing teenager as he lets them both sink to the floor, “You just cry. We’ve got nowhere to be…You’re the bravest kid I’ve ever known. Just cry.”

Peter grips tight to the fabric in his fists, confirmation that the dam’s erupted, submerging the room in sounds that could crush even the most calloused of hearts. 

“I know, sweet boy,” Tony whispers, “You’ve kept all this in for way too long.”

Peter abandons every last self-conscious thought there is left, feeling safe enough to let his lungs do as they please, even as it shreds at his throat like a knife. 

And Tony…well, he forces himself to stay quiet after that, concerned any words might stop the expelling emotions prematurely. 

Instead, he holds the boy’s head close to his heart, leaving soft kisses in to brown curls as he waits for Peter to tell him it’s over. 

It carries on and on...no sign of letting up, like the winter squall outside the sliding glass door behind them.

And after a while it’s just little shudders here and there, Peter’s fingers loosening as his head lulls limp against the arc reactor. 

“...’m s-sorry, Mr. St’rk-“

“Shh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you ever not sorry?”

“I r-ruined your shirt.”

“Yeah,” Tony sighs, “Hey, actually, you know what? It’s the perfect excuse to buy a new one. We should pick out a couple of tacky tourist hoodies tomorrow…you know, down at that old saltwater taffy place? I’ll let you pick mine; I get to pick yours and then we’ll go down to the beach…take _thee_ cheesiest, Hallmark level, father-son selfie, purely for the sake of cringing over it and embarrassing you with it for years to come.”

Peter makes a soft sound and Tony isn’t sure if it’s happy or sad. Even so, he feels a nod.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

They rest in the comfortable silence that follows, letting a good forty minutes go by before Tony’s back and legs begin to protest.

“Okay, kid. We gotta shift this cuddle fest to the couch or bed before my body decides to stay this way,” he groans, causing Peter to jump to his feet and assist him in rising.

They end up moving to the couch by the sliding glass door, parting it slightly to hear the roaring waves as they return to another round of silent peace.

Peter sits perfectly still beside him again and Tony wants to pull him back to his original spot, but neither of them move.

“I think…I think it might have all started when the fight was over,” Peter begins well after the sun has set, pulling at a piece of skin hanging off his thumbnail, “I couldn’t stop seeing you…that way.”

Tony tilts his head, brows furrowing as he puckers his lips in thought, “In what way? My arm?”

Peter give the tiniest of shrugs, inhaling through his nose.

“The burns?” Tony wonders just how many questions he’ll have to ask tonight before he gets the whole story. “I know my suit was-“

“Just, all of it!” Peter throws up his hands, a hint of hysteria creeping in to his tone, “Before Doctor Strange fixed everything…I thought you were…you looked dead, you know? Your f-face…”

“Breathe,” Tony coaches, laying a hand on the kid’s shoulder, “Try to stay in the present, bud. I know it’s hard.”

“And the worst thing…” Peter tries again, wiping his nose with his sleeve, “The thing that really got to me was…you couldn’t say anything to me.”

He braves a look at Tony for the first time in a while…dark, watery pools shining as his bottom lip quakes, “I don’t know why that…but I didn’t…I couldn’t…I hated it. I hated it!”

Tony gathers the kid back to his chest again, unable to do anything else when the trauma’s still so fresh…so tangible on Peter’s countenance.

“Yeah…I get it. God knows, I get it,” he replies, flashbacks of that precious face crumbling to dust in his hands. It all comes flooding back to the front of his mind and it still makes him nauseous, even today.

“And then…Mysterio…” Peter says, drifting in thought.

“What happened before I got there, bud?” It’s a question Tony’s always wanted to ask since the incident in Europe, but he’s never had the opportunity.

“He told me things…showed me things,” Peter replies.

“Things that weren’t true, no doubt.”

“Yeah,” Peter replies, “Except, it was true, what he said…that you’d die someday. Even if you escaped it this time…that he’d take over everything when you did.”

“He was just a crazy lunatic, Pete,” Tony murmurs, resting his cheek on the teen’s head.

“There was something else,” Peter continues.

Tony’s shocked to feel how hard the kid’s suddenly trembling in his hold but makes no mention of it, “Tell me.”

Peter shakes his head.

“Buddy, this thing has obviously got its claws deep in you. We gotta rip them out, even if it hurts. I wanna see my spider-kid beat this stuff.”

Peter clings tighter and takes a few big breaths, “It was your tombstone…and…”

“It’s okay, buddy, keep going.”

“Your body,” Peter weeps as Tony covers a nearby blanket over his shaking form, “You came out of the ground like some kind of a zombie.”

Tony rocks him back and forth, listening on with pangs of guilt.

“And there were…s-spiders in your skull…and your suit w-was decaying…you tried to attack me and I was so scared, Mr. Stark-“

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” Tony whispers, carrying on in bringing comforts however he can, “Do you want to take a break for the night?”

Peter sniffles loud beneath the blanket, “Yeah.”

“Yeah? Okay.”

“I love you, Tony.”

Tony forgets to breathe, the boy’s statement blindsiding every coherent thought and removing the ability to process anything at all.

He feels the kid’s discomfort when he can’t seem to form a response, making his heart pound even harder in his chest.

Peter moves to sit up but Tony won’t release him.

“I’m sorry. That was-”

“You love me?”

Peter’s entire head seems to flush at his mentor’s question, ears burning bright red.

For a second, Tony thinks he’ll take it back before he remembers just who he’s talking to.

“Y-Yeah. A lot, actually. Is it-did I make it weird?”

Tony’s eyes water, cupping the side of Peter’s face with his calloused palm, “So weird,” he tries to say with voice cracking, “In fact, I might not ever fully recover.”

Peter looks down for a moment and Tony surprises him with a fierce bear hug.

“I love you too, kid…so, so much.”

Peter actually sleeps through the night after all that, burrowed close to Tony, their drawn line, down the middle of the bed, long forgotten as his mentor texts home to Pepper with his free hand.

**_P: Well, thank God he’s okay. Poor baby. Is he asleep?_ **

_T: Yep. Snug as a bug in a rug._

**_P: With you?_ **

_T: Does it matter?_

**_P: Of course it does. I’ve gotta be able to tease you AND enjoy the fact that you prove yourself wrong every single day. #worldsbestfather_ **

_T: He told me he loved me today._

**_P: #toldyou_ **

_T: Yeah, yeah. Can we quit with the hashtags? I get enough of it from the kid._

**_P: #grumpydaddy_ **

_T: Uh-huh. Funny. I’ll show you #grumpydaddy when I see you next. >;-D_

**_P: Ssfl82lq//re]/w1jkvrwe w w,pq1_ **

**_P: Sorry, that was Morgan._ **

_T: Thought maybe you were short circuiting over there._

**_P: LOL Don’t be too disappointed. ;D Your Morguna’s saying, “Goodnight, Daddy.”_ **

****

Tony smiles as a picture of his baby girl appears on the screen, her sweet face grinning and filling the frame. He traces a thumb over her tiny features.

_T: Give my little miss lots of extra kisses. We’ll be back before you know it._

**_P: Goodnight, babe. Relax and enjoy your time. We’re all fine here. You and Pete sleep well._ **

_T: Love you honey. You girls too. Xoxo_

_……._

Tony turns off his phone, sliding it over to the night stand and fluffing the pillow behind him as Peter stirs a little.

Gosh, they still had a long way to go. The road to recovery was never easy or certain…chalk full of toils and snares…even so, they’ve made more progress in one night than he ever thought possible…and consequently, their relationship has already deepened because of it.

_This kid._

_My first kid._

“Sleep good, buddy. Tomorrow’s a brand-new day.”

“Brand-new day,” Peter repeats in his sleep.

Tony snuggles him close.


End file.
